Archive of Our Own

It had been a fairly normal day, as far as trips across the country went.

You had gotten to the airport early, put your baggage on the conveyor belt, and had been checked for weapons you didn't possess in the metal detector and by security personnel. You had walked into the lounge area, displaying your BTS shirt proudly.

You were hoping to find an ARMY or two around the airport somewhere. So far, you had met and talked to at least 15 different ARMYs during the two years you had been a fan of BTS. You looked around the lounge, and seeing an empty stretch of chairs, sauntered over and settled yourself in the middle of the row.

It was a habit of yours to draw random people in the lounge and make up characters for your stories with them. You dug in your bag for your small, 5x6" sketchpad and your favorite pencil. Your eyes scanned around the room, flying over people, finally coming to rest on a girl hunched over her phone.

You didn't pretend to be good; you knew you drew quite well. You flipped open your sketchpad, past drawings of BTS, drawings of Hobi, more drawings of Hobi, outfits, book characters, even more drawings of Hobi...

Wow. It really wasn't a secret who your bias was.

You finally got to an empty page. You began to draw; sketching her loose, blonde hair, beanie, big, puffy jacket, the slightly bored look on her well-proportioned face. Your pencil flew across the page, adding a few lines here, erasing a few that didn't belong.

When you finished, you gave her a name, occupation, birthday, and a few interests and hobbies. You stared down satisfactorily at the drawing, then looked at your phone. It was 9:03 PM.

You sighed. 42 minutes until you made your way to your seat on the plane.

You looked around yourself, tapping the pencil on your little book as you searched lazily for another subject. Your gaze fell upon a group of boys sitting in a corner of the room, flanked on either side with people. They looked Asian, with black hair, sort of pale skin, and all wearing face masks.

One caught your eye in particular. He was hunched over, leaning on the shoulder of the boy next to him. What you could see of his face, sleeping as he was plus the face mask, he reminded you of Hobi. A smile quirked the corners of your mouth as you decided to draw him.

You leaned over your sketchpad, drawing him in his sleeping position; his dark hair over his forehead, eyes closed, his face mask, striped turtleneck under the bright red hoodie-type jacket, and tight jeans. You had no idea how he made it work, but it sure as heck looked amazing.

In fact, he looked so amazing that you decided to color the picture. You dug in your bag for your colored pencils, and began to fill the drawing with the black and blue and red and the other colors that made him.

Your eyes flew to him, then back to the page, then back to him. Your hand flew, adding subtle features, until you stared down at the drawing in dismay.

You had subconsciously drawn Hobi.

Your brow creased as you frowned and turned the page.

Seriously, (Y/N). Focus.

You started anew, this time drawing him in an upright position. You removed the face mask, and added a smiling mouth, adorable cheeks, warm, happy eyes— and you had done it again.

You had drawn Hobi.

You angrily flipped the page, determined to draw the boy sitting in the lounge chair. You began to draw again, and this time successfully drew him. You smiled down at it, and began to create the background information.

You wrote Name: , and without thinking about it, filled in Jung Hoseok in the space. Furious with yourself, you erased it.

Why did he remind you so much of Hobi?

Trying to not look like a creep, you slightly held up your drawing, comparing the pencil version to the live version of the boy.

Clothes? Check.
Position? Check.
Hair? Check.
Face...

You frowned. If only you could see his face. You held the book close to your face, squinting.

You had drawn him exactly , so why did you get so many Hobi vibes?

You lowered the book, looking closely at the boy.

He really did look like Hobi. Surely it was just a coincidence there were seven of them...

And then your heart leapt.

The boy suddenly sat up, having been jostled awake by the boy he was leaning on. You stared as the boy next to him said something quietly and pointed at you. He looked over at you, making eye contact.

Holy shit.

It couldn't be.

He stared at you. You were frozen in your seat, holding your pencil in stiff fingers, your book open on your lap.

Then he stood up.

You watched him walk over to you, and suddenly your brain woke up. Your heart pounding, you hastily shoved your pencils into your bag, shutting the book. You were about to stuff it into your bag when a voice stopped you.

"Don't put it away. Please."

Your heart freaked out, and you swallowed hard.

You knew that voice.

You had heard it on YouTube a million times. You obeyed, dropping your bag but still clutching your book in your shaking fingers.

You slowly lifted your head.

He was standing in front of you, his sparkling dark eyes holding yours.

It was Jung Hoseok, in the flesh.

Your mouth forgot how to work. Apparently, so did every other part of your body. You sat, staring up at him, not believing that this was happening. His eyes crinkled, as if he were smiling under the mask.

"May I sit down?"

He gestured to the seat next to you. You stared dumbly at it until your brain screamed You're blowing it, idiot!

You woke up. You nodded, and breathed "YesyoucanI'msorrygorightahead!"
Your face was probably as red as his jacket.

He sat down next to you, and your frenzied self moved your bag and purse to under your seat, apologizing for being in the way.

He laughed.

"It's totally fine."

You lifted your blushing face to his. Then he took off his mask.

"Hobi," you whispered.

He grinned.

"Hi," he said.

You stared at him, mouth open.

"It's you," you managed, and Hobi smiled.

"Yes, it's me. Who are you?"

You swallowed.

"(Y/N)."

Hobi nodded.

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)."

Your mouth began to work again.

"You too," you answered.

Hobi glanced at your book.

"What were you drawing?" He asked, and you flushed.

"People," you replied.

Hobi raised an eyebrow.

"Anyone...in particular?"

You threw up your hands, thoroughly embarrassed.

"Alright, fine. I was drawing you."

He smirked.

"Can I see?"

You silently handed him the little sketchbook. You watched him slowly leaf through the pages, feverishly waiting for a sign from Hobi. He flipped through your artwork, pausing slightly on your drawings of him. He stopped completely on the most recent ones; the ones you had done not fifteen minutes ago.

His fingertips ran across the sketch, and he turned to look at you.

"Wow," he said, his eyes wide, "You're really good."

You flushed, and took the book as he handed it back to you.

"Thanks," you croaked.

He glanced at you.

"Could you draw Jeongguk, right now, as he is?"

You looked over at where the boys were sitting. Jeongguk (he had taken off his face mask) was sitting sprawled all across his chair, looking at his phone. You pulled out your pencil, and opened your book.

"Sure I can," you said confidently, and began to sketch.

Immediately, everything went wrong. Your pencil lead broke. Then you smudged the paper. And, try as you might, you simply could not draw him right. Finally, after two tries, you gave up. You bent over, plunking your face on the open book, arms hanging limp at your sides.

"I guess I can't," you mumbled, feeling completely embarrassed. Hobi laughed, and you looked up at him.

"It's because I'm nervous!" You cried. "With you looking over my shoulder, I can't focus!"

He laughed again, and patted your back.

"Then pretend I'm not here."

It was easier said than done, but you managed it. You tried again, and this time you were able to draw Jeongguk quite well indeed. When finished, you triumphantly handed the book to Hobi. He took it, looked at the drawing, and up at Jeongguk.

"Un- believable ," he declared, and you blushed, lighting up at his praise.

"It wasn't really that hard," you said half-heartedly, tying to be modest, but he laughed.

"(Y/N), this is really good!"

You looked up hopefully at Hobi.

"Really?"

He nodded.

" Really really."

You smiled, your insides turning to jelly. You and Hobi talked a little bit, and then you were interrupted by a voice on the intercom.

"Will all passengers for the 10 o'clock flight to Chicago please make their way to the plane?"

You glanced up, your face falling as you realized that your time was up. From the stricken look on your face, Hobi guessed "Your flight?"

You nodded slowly, packing your things. You stood up to go, wanting to cry.

"Goodbye, Hobi," you choked.

Then he grasped the hem of your t-shirt.

"(Y/N), I..."

You looked down into his face, and he swallowed hard.

"I wish we had five more minutes."

You nodded.

"Me too."

Then, on an impulse, you dug in your purse for a scrap of paper and a pen. You hastily scribbled your name, number, and Instagram username on it and thrust it into Hobi's hand.

"In case you want that extra five minutes," you said breathlessly. He nodded, and waved as you ran off.

And you boarded your plane with exactly five minutes to spare.